


Agreement

by blue_crow



Category: Tron (1982)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-08
Updated: 2011-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-15 16:19:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/162616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_crow/pseuds/blue_crow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alan is sharing Lora with Kevin Flynn. He doesn't mind, except for how much it makes him think about Flynn. One night, she misses a romantic dinner, and he gets an unexpected guest instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Agreement

**Author's Note:**

> My first Tron fic was supposed to be an elegant commentary on digital romance and surrogates for the unobtainable, but instead I just wrote Alan/Flynn porn. Thanks to [](http://blaaksable.livejournal.com/profile)[**blaaksable**](http://blaaksable.livejournal.com/) for beta.

He and Kevin and Lora had what she liked to call an 'agreement', and Kevin preferred to call 'some kind of 70s swinger thing' (and then he'd smile that smile he always did, that infuriated and inspired him at once.) But Alan thought the less they talked about it, the better, and did what he could to enforce that line of thought.

The 'agreement' was, that when Flynn was in town and he wasn't swamped with work, Lora would go over to his place, and they'd… do whatever adults did in the privacy of their own home. And when Flynn was too busy, which was mostly, Lora would resume her domestic life with Alan. In theory, it was fine- they were all too busy for more than half a relationship anyway, and he wasn't a jealous man, he wasn't driven mad picturing Lora sweaty and naked on Kevin's sheets.

What he hated most was that he hardly got to see him anymore, not when they weren't in a meeting. The closest he got to that smile was Lora's lips the day after, and sometimes he could smell him on her- or the arcade, which was almost as good.

One night, he expects her home from the office, and she isn't there. Flynn had been in the office that morning, he remembers, only after he's made spaghetti and garlic bread for two, set the table with the good china and candles. It was going to be a romantic evening, where he showed her he really didn't care about her and Flynn- he didn't, but now he wonders if he does, after all.

He uncorks the wine and pours himself a glass. For Lora he would have poured a little, tasted, then poured her a glass and topped off his own, but he's never gotten a bad bottle and he intends to get drunk, not to savor the stuff. Its fine, anyway, like always, but it goes to his head quickly as he'd forgotten lunch and had been waiting on her to eat.

His pager beeps, when he's two glasses in and starting his third, and its Lora. He calls her at the office- which is the request she'd sent him- and she's flustered but not aroused. She goes down some line of technobabble about the laser and some development and she doesn't know when she'll be in, and he does his best to pretend he hasn't been drinking and taking his mind down the paths he usually ignores, how good she must look while Flynn fucks her, how her leg would curl over his hip and how her calf would look just over his ass-

"Sorry, I shouldn't be explaining. I'll see you in the morning," she cuts off, when she can tell he's not listening, and Alan mumbles, "Love you," as her line drops. And he does. He takes his glasses off and rubs the bridge of his nose, trying to stop picturing his best friend's well-shaped body, his chest and stomach mostly (and he's surely seen enough of that, Kevin can hardly keep his shirt on sometimes) but can't seem to stop himself from picturing his cock. Big, probably, or big enough, thick but not too much to take. Perfect, just like the rest of him.

He feels his own cock get hard at the thought, and he palms himself through his slacks, pouring another glass of wine. He can wait to put the dinner away, he hasn't plated it yet, and Lora won't be home for hours- there's no reason beyond his own shame to keep him from masturbating at the dining table, and he is past that now. He unzips his pants and strokes himself eagerly, letting himself think all the thoughts he'd always managed to keep at bay, bypassing any notions of threesomes and proceeding to lusty speculation of what his cock must taste like, how it would feel against his lips, in his mouth. "Flynn-" he hears himself moan, trying the name out on his lips.

His hips rut up against his own hand, and he leans back against the chair to get more leverage, desperate for release, thoughts of Flynn deep inside him- coming inside him- pushing him over, and he comes with a soft shout. Boneless, he settles back into the chair, realizing as he catches his breath that he's stained the tablecloth. Then he tips his wine glass over- just enough, not wasting the wine, but providing a reason to take the thing to the dry cleaner's.

Then he fixes his pants and wraps the dinner in aluminum foil, not hungry. The lusty thoughts for Kevin are less distracting once he's come, and he settles onto the couch with a book.

Soon- too soon for it to be Lora- the doorbell rings out. Alan remembers to mark his page before he stands to peer through the peephole- but then unlatches the door. "Flynn?" he asks, as their eyes meet.

"Lora said she was worried about you," Flynn says, as he brushes past him. "Thought I'd drop in. She's gonna be at the new laser array until she cracks it, while I-" and he turns to grin, "happen to know that you're between projects and could use a pick-me-up."

"Yeah, I-" Alan manages, locking the door behind them. "You're welcome any time."

"Looks like you started without me," Flynn teases, as he picks up the mostly-empty wine bottle, and then brings it to his lips to finish off. "You got any more?"

"Yeah, sure," he offers, congratulating himself on not staring as Flynn licked the last drop from the rim. It is amongst the worst ideas he's ever had- letting Flynn into the house when he is lusty and drunk and Lora will be back in the morning, but he can't help himself. He steps into the basement to get another bottle- something better, this time, not the California merlot but the Burgundy he'd been saving for a special occasion. Flynn wasn't going to notice the difference, anyway.

For a second he is shocked that he hasn't returned to find his friend shirtless and sprawled out invitingly on the couch. Instead, Flynn is poking through his fridge, and greets him with a triumphant grin, casserole dish in hand, the foil already peeled back. "Have you eaten? I haven't. I'm starving."

"No," Alan shakes his head. "I'll reheat it." He pauses. "Let me get the oven on." Individual thoughts took longer to process, though he knows everything will be better once he's eaten. Unless he has more of the wine. It takes a few minutes to get everything together- the spaghetti into the microwave and the oven started, though Flynn steals a piece of the bread before he gets it in there and asserts, "Its fine cold. You think?" and casually offers the other side of the slice to Alan's mouth.

Alan feels himself flush as he bites down, his cheek less than an inch away from Flynn's fingers, but if the other man notices, he doesn't say. "Yeah, that's okay."

"Good," Flynn grins, and pulls his hand away, finishing the slice himself. It is better to keep a few elements from the romantic dinner a bit off- so it feels like poker night instead of a date. He is relieved when he hears Flynn pop the cork on the wine- it is better than him deciding to light the candles- but when he catches him eying the white stain next to the red one, he finds himself wishing he had lit them and turned the lights off, instead.

"So, you're keeping busy?" Flynn asks, eyebrow raised infuriatingly. "She said she'd called you, I didn't think it was that kinda call."

"Uh-" Alan stammers, and why is it always so easy for Flynn to have control of everything? "No, it wasn't. I- thought she was with you," he admits, but instead of explaining the situation like he'd hoped, it sounds worse, exposing even more of dirty thoughts.

Instead of picking his words apart until he'd figured it out, Flynn accepts the explanation, and they sit down to eat, at first in silence, and then make the usual smalltalk- first about the food, and then Encom. The production of the TRON movie was suffering some delays, all of which irritated Flynn, even though he wasn't involved creatively (besides getting to greenlight all the major decisions.) The latest water cooler joke at Encom was that Flynn had tried to play himself in the picture, though no one really believed it. They have a nice, genuine laugh over that.

Then the food is gone and Kevin has caught up to Alan with the wine, and Kevin turns a predatory look on his friend.

"So, this works out pretty well. When I'm busy, she's with you, and when you're busy, she's with me."

Alan shrugs. It was a way to put it, as much as he'd rather not discuss things.

"But what about when she's busy? We never talked about that part."

"I don't know if this is a very good idea-" he starts, but Flynn cuts him off.

"I think you do. Hell, I've been trying to- well, you know. Since that night we broke into Encom. I've been thinking about you."

"You should probably-" and he can't bring himself to voice 'go', not when they'd had a bottle each and what was more, the very last thing he wants is Flynn leaving. "Let's sleep this off," he tries, instead.

"Sure," Flynn agrees, though the look in his eyes hasn't changed, and when Alan gets up to wash the dishes, Flynn pins him to the sink with his hips, kissing down his neck. Alan drops the plate he's working on into the sink and tenses his hands on the counter, unable to let himself go the way Flynn has.

"Please, Alan," Flynn purrs against his ear. "Alan. I need you," and its clear that he does, the way he's hard against Alan's ass. That realization sends a jolt of lust through his body, but all he can think about is how shocked and ashamed Lora would be, if she saw him like this, his hips beginning to rock against Flynn's. "Alan. My hero," he purrs, against his ear. "Tron," he says, and Alan's lost.

He spins around and catches those lips he can't stop thinking about in a nearly bruising kiss, rougher than he ever lets himself get with Lora. Flynn moans in pleasure and surprise, and holds him eagerly against himself, grinding against him, enjoying the victory of the moment, of the kiss.

"God-" Flynn gasps, that grin against his mouth. "You really got it all bottled up in there, huh?"

"Shut up," he says without malice, and kisses him again, the same way, pushing his motorcycle jacket off of his shoulders. Today he's leaving Flynn's clothes all over the house. His hands seek out that stomach, the chest he realizes he thinks about all the time, over his shirt, and then under it. He's frustrated that he waited this long, that instead of that sweaty arcade teeshirt he has to undo every one of these buttons, working his way up to his necktie, and his fingers fumble with it.

Flynn reaches up to do it, himself, and laughs into his mouth. Alan bites his lip, and Flynn kisses his ear. "'s like bras, y'know? You're not used to doin' it."

The comment should be a reminder, of Lora, but it just sounds like chatter and he mumbles, "Do you have to talk this much?" as he pushes the shirt off of him, leading him to the bedroom, holding his hips and making him walk backwards.

"Yeah," he grinned. "Yeah, and you're gonna love it. I can call you Tron again, tell you how I realized how hot you were when I saw him, without your glasses, in that spandex thing. Practically naked." Alan pushes the shirt off of him, partway down the hallway, and then gets his undershirt off, finally exposing his chest, kissing his neck.

"Tell you how I thought about- oh, yeah, right there… about going back in, about seeing if he was game when you weren't. But you know what I realized?"

Alan pushes Flynn back onto the bed and straddles him, kissing down his chest. He got some sun while he was in LA, looking at the TRON locations, that was for sure- he'd tanned up nicely. It isn't that his skin tastes any better than any other skin that he's had his mouth on, and granted he's still a bit fuzzy on the edges, but that smile… it was perfect because it was Flynn.

"I realized-" he gasps as Alan bites down on one of his nipples, "Wouldn't be you anyway. Looks like it, but-" and he pulls back to tug Alan up for another one of those long, intense kisses, which Alan prolongs because it keeps him quiet- "That you were what I needed," he finishes.

He sits up to undo his own tie, and debates whether or not he wants to try to get it all into Flynn's mouth. The Tron hallucinations- or whatever it was that Flynn had experienced that night- were charming enough and even arousingly intimate when he talked about them that way, but he still isn't sure what to believe about the whole thing. Flynn was a showman, first and foremost. Then he decides that the only thing he really wants is that cock in his mouth, and he stops undressing himself to get Flynn's pants open.

"Fuck," is all Flynn says as Alan licks along his cock. It is not quite as perfect as he'd pictured, a little thinner, but longer to make up for it, though he's not sure he can get the whole thing in his mouth. He's drunk enough to make the effort right off, taking so much that he coughs and has to pull back, to catch his breath.

Flynn stares down at Alan like he's can't believe what he's seeing, and threads fingers through his hair. Alan just takes him back in his mouth, more slowly, pacing himself. He wants to enjoy it, maybe more than he wants Flynn to enjoy it. He's not sure he'll have the chance again. It doesn't feel like he's seeing god or having a revelation, but he loves the feeling of Flynn's cock in his mouth, and he doesn't want it to end.

"No, no-" Flynn mumbles, pushing at his jaw, and he's terrified for a second that Flynn is going to leave. "No, I want you. Fuck me," he demands, and Alan pulls back to stare at him. This he can't believe in the slightest, but he feels his cock stir at the suggestion.

"Yes," he breathes, and fumbles in the drawer for lubricant and a condom. He can't think of anything but how good Flynn will feel when he comes around him.

"'course Tron wants to have safe sex," Flynn jokes, and then lays back, legs sprawled, laughing. Alan tugs his pants off of him and marvels at how he looks naked, with tan lines where his trunks were. "You done this before?"

Alan shakes his head, and stands to finish undressing himself, a little self-conscious under his friend's scrutiny, especially when Flynn whistles. A second later, he can't help but stare back, as Flynn teases one of his own fingers over his entrance, pushing in slowly, opening himself for Alan.

"You like how that looks?" Flynn purrs, parting his legs a little more so Alan can kneel between his legs and kiss his thigh, by his knee, content to watch. Flynn isn't so excited about that, though, and tugs Alan's hand up, encouraging his finger inside himself, moving his hand with his own until he's angled just right. "God-" he gasps, "Right- yeah, do that again. That's what you're gonna wanna do with your dick, ok?"

"Anything," Alan murmurs, loving how it makes Flynn's hips jump. He teases him again, and he's glad now that he didn't gag him, or he wouldn't hear the moans that were pouring out of his lips. After a second, Flynn's brain catches up with him, and he opens the condom wrapper with his teeth, pressing it to Alan's cock and applying it.

"Just fuck me," Flynn demands, and Alan can't deny him. He pushes in, and at first his friend grunts, tense against him, and he's worried he's hurt him. Then Flynn does something with his hips and wraps a leg around his low back- a recall to his thoughts earlier that makes him moan against his neck- and he starts fucking him in earnest, trying his best to please.

A steady stream of profanity falls against Alan's neck, as Flynn begs him to go harder, not to stop, for Tron, his Tron, to make him come. It is dirty and rough and wonderful, the way his heel cuts into his back and his mouth tastes like garlic and mostly wine, carnal in a way he wouldn't let himself be with Lora. Flynn does this thing where he tenses up around him, smirking against his lips when he does, and it takes everything Alan can do not to come right then, but he manages until Flynn is stroking himself, his hand fast between their bodies, and he feels him tense with orgasm. He lets go, too, and it feels more like falling than like orgasm.

He isn't sure how he ended up in bed, flat on his back, or why Flynn is across the room, tossing the condom into the trash, but then he's in his arms, no, they're tangled up together, and it feels familiar and comfortable at once.

  
He wakes with a start the next morning, his brain engaged to pick up Flynn's clothing, before he realizes that Flynn is still in the bed, and if Lora has seen them in bed together, the worst has already happened.

Then, as he sees the pile of his own clothes and Flynn's pants, he notices a pink mohair sweater and a pink skirt in a heap right next to them.

Lora starts as she notices the covers being pulled away, and instinctively turns to face away from Alan, hiding her face in the pillow. Flynn hasn't moved, looking as debauched as he had the night before, and Alan decides to take advantage of the weekend, and lays back in bed to thank, what Flynn would playfully have called, the Users.  



End file.
